A Drop of Water
by i don't even like it
Summary: Eric returns from his teaching stay in Africa to his old home and his old friends. But while he expected a warm welcome, he didn't get it from everyone.
1. Chapter 1

"Well, it's getting late and I have work in the morning," Donna said, getting up from the couch and heading for the basement door. "Try not to be in the same positions when I come back tomorrow."

I broke my concentration to look at her and force a grin. "We'll do our best.." She smiled back and kissed the side of my cheek before gathering her things and heading out into the cold night. I watched briefly as flecks of snow wandered into the basement after her, and settled into the rug. I wished she had stayed, if only so this would feel less awkward.

Since I had gotten back from Africa, Hyde and I hadn't been alone in a room together for more than a minute, tops. I made sure of it. If my parents needed help with something, I made sure I was right there, and after all of our friends left for the night, I was the first to scurry up to my bedroom after little more than a cursory "well, see ya." It felt weird, for sure, to be uncomfortable around the person I'd considered my best friend for practically my whole life. And though the teaching job I'd taken in South Africa taught me a lot about patience, I somehow couldn't apply it to Hyde. The moment we were alone I felt a panic crawl up my spine that was almost too much to bear.

Looking at Hyde, you'd never know anything was wrong. He kept it casual in front of our friends, even hugged me briefly at first when I came home, but I knew better. When everyone turned away, the easy-going smile would drop from his face, and his eyes, when he wasn't wearing his sunglasses, would go icy at the sight of me. I know he was upset that I left, even though he was calm about it when it happened, and I knew he was keeping up the charade to make everyone else happy and unsuspecting. Hyde was a good person, despite the teasing and fights we got into when we were growing up, and I knew this act, I'd seen it dozens of times before, like when he lied to my mom about being okay that Edna left, even though it meant he lived in a trash heap for weeks and ate saltines covered in ketchup. He never wanted to bother anyone or have his feelings be a burden, that was his way since the first time I met him when we were kids, since the first time I saw the bruises on his sides from one of the various "uncles" his mom brought into his life who got too drunk and too ill-tempered. So I knew something was up from the moment after his robotic half-hug when I walked in the door, and the face that immediately followed, though he tried his best to cover it up. But I didn't know how to fix it, and I didn't know what would happen if I tried.

We sat in silence, a Brady Bunch rerun playing on the ancient TV covered in a thin film of dust, both of us waiting for the other to break the silence, to cop out some lame exclamation of tiredness and be the first to bolt. I tried my best to look engrossed by the show but I couldn't help but glance at him every now and then from my peripheral, feet up on the striped ottoman, arms crossed, face expressionless below his perched glasses. The silence felt like it stretched forever, and unconsciously, I sighed. Hyde's head snapped to me at the sound.

"Watch it, Forman."

"God, sorry. I'm just-"

"What, tired?" He asked, in a sneering voice. "Too much jet-lag?"

This was the most we'd really spoken since I came back, that wasn't just banter with the rest of our friends. I should've just apologized, tried to keep whatever peace might have been there, but his tone ate at me.

"Yeah, sorry Hyde, sorry I just came back from a fucking entirely different _continent_ and it made me a little sleepy." We were meeting each other's eyes now, and there wasn't a hint of dullness in his sky-blue eyes, instead, they burned with a dark rage.

"You know what? I'm sick of your shit, Forman. Ever since you got back, every second of every day is about you, everything's about Africa, will you ever just fucking shut up?"

All I could do was stare at him. "Look, either tell me what your real problem is, or let's not talk."

"Then I guess we're not talking because I don't have any problem." He replied venomously before storming off to his basement bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him before I could get in another word. I stared back at the Brady Bunch in his absence as it faded to commercial, suddenly wishing more than anything else that I hadn't come back at all. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I grabbed my jacket from behind the couch, and headed out into the January night to Donna's house, wanting to be anywhere but here.


	2. Chapter 2

I hated him.

"Does anyone know when Eric's coming home?" Fez asked from the couch in Eric's old spot, arm wrapped around Jackie. I glared at him from my chair and he shot me a confused look.

"Next week." Kelso answered across from me, not looking up from the Rubik's cube he wasn't even close to solving, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration before looking up excitedly. "Oh! We should throw a kegger when he gets back! Jackie, can we go to our old secret makeout spot?"

Jackie made a face. "That was like five years ago, idiot. Someone lives there now, pool's filled in."

"Well, shit!" Kelso replied, tossing the cube on the ground with a loud click. "We gotta do something, though! I won't have Betsey next week, so I'll be free as a bird, man."

"I gotta work at the store." I answered, pressing my head even further against my hand while pretending to be interested in the TV. I could feel Jackie's accusatory stare as she flipped through her magazine.

"You're going to be at the store every hour of every day for a whole week?" She asked, attitude in every word.

"Yeah Hyde, c'mon he's your best friend! You've known him longer than the rest of us. You live with his parents, man, we gotta do something for him!"

I ignored them and kept staring at the TV. I hated Forman. I had just gotten used to my routine of: go to work, get high after work, and not thinking about him, and now, after all that, he was coming back. While the other three talked I squeezed my eyes tightly shut together for a moment behind my shades and tried to move my mind somewhere else. There was so much Forman hadn't been here for, so many times I needed him to be there for me, to be my friend, and he wasn't here.

Wait. No. I didn't _need_ Eric. I didn't _need_ anybody.

"I'm gonna go to my room," I announced, easing myself out of the chair. I couldn't be around them right now, talking about Forman coming back, planning him a surprise party or whatever they were trying to do, "see you kids later." They murmured their goodbyes as I tossed myself on the twin bed I'd gotten so familiar with, picking up the half stubbed-out roach on my bedside table and giving it a light, hoping it'd pick up my spirits a little. But as my head felt heavy, my mind drifted too far, to the way Sam's hair felt next to me on this bed when we slept together at night, to my dad leaving town, to deep hazel eyes.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. " _Fuck_." I knew I was being an asshole and I couldn't stop. Sam was my biggest distraction from all of this, and since she left it felt like a part of me left with her, but only the part of me that didn't think about everything that was happening here. The old basement light flickered overhead and I turned up the small stereo I bought from the record store in my room just loud enough to drown out the conversation going on on the other side of the wall. I wish I could've done something to make him stay, then maybe everything with Jackie wouldn't have happened, and then I wouldn't have even met Sam, and maybe I'd have had a chance to be happy, because in that moment, I damn sure wasn't. There wasn't enough weed to smoke, enough beer to drink, enough miles to drive on a dark open road to make me happy anymore. I gotta get out of here. I gotta leave Point Place, go out on my own, stop being reminded every second of all my failures since Eric left. I got out of bed, head still swimming, reaching under the bed for my duffel bag, stuffing what little things I owned into it. I'd miss Kitty and Red. They'd become practically my own parents, and nicer to me than anyone else had ever been, given me a place to stay for years now, and I was forever grateful, but I needed to leave. After waiting awhile until the talking died down and the basement door closed, I tossed my blanket over the bed, looked at my room for the last time, and made my way up the stairs. I figured it was late enough that the rest of the house would be asleep and I could just leave a note, but stopped in my tracks at the sight of Red in the kitchen sipping a beer.

"Where ya going, Steven?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "I was just, uh...I was just gonna take off."

He eyed me suspiciously. "For the night? That's an awful lot of stuff to bring just for one night."

I sighed. "Look, Red,"

He cut me off. "Steven, you're an adult. I can't stop you from doing what you want to do anymore. But you've been living under my roof so I think I have the right to at least say this: stay until Eric gets back. You've been pissed as hell for months about Sam leaving and whatever else, but I know he'd be pretty damn hurt if he came back and you weren't here."

"He'll have Mrs. Forman and the rest of the welcoming committee, he doesn't need me there too."

At that Red sighed and took another sip of his beer. "Fine. Then let me put it this way. You stayed here for four years rent free, I fed you, I clothed you, I overlooked you smoking dope here. You are not gonna make _me_ tell Kitty you up and left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. Now get your ass back downstairs."

"Mr. Forman, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but-"

"I'd love nothing more than to have you out of this house, believe me," he said, cutting me off again. "But this isn't a question anymore, get back in the basement. Just for a week. If after Eric comes home and you still want to go, that's fine by me. It's late. Goodnight." Red got up to throw his beer can out, then headed up the stairs to bed, leaving me alone in shadow. My bag all of a sudden felt heavy on my shoulder and I let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. I could still go. I was so close to the door, close to escape, I didn't have to listen to him, I was my own man, goddammit, I could still leave. I stood there silently for a moment, before picking my bag back up and going back to the basement. Just for a week. Only a week.


	3. Chapter 3

It was ten thirty but I hadn't left my bed. Mom had called me down for breakfast more than an hour ago, but I felt chained to the sheets, the night before on repeat in my mind: Hyde's gruff, angry voice, the muscle memory of easing off Donna's clothes, the numb feeling that radiated out to my fingertips as I touched her in all the ways I knew she liked, the disappointed look on her face she tried to mask when eventually nothing happened and I slipped back out her window not long after. I had tried to chalk it all up to a lot being on my mind about the future, which wasn't untrue, but I knew that wasn't entirely it. I didn't know what Hyde was so pissed about, and I didn't know how to make it better, and now it was invading my every thought. I pressed my hands to my eyes, blocking out the morning light filtering through my curtains, as I heard Kitty's voice emanating from the kitchen "Steven, will you go get Eric out of bed?"

I didn't hear Hyde's response, but I subconsciously groaned. I was hoping to wait it out, go scavenge for food when he was safely back in the basement and we wouldn't have to see each other, but that dream was dashed as soon as I heard loud footfalls coming up the stairs from behind my closed door. He stopped just outside and I felt my breathing halt, nervously.

"Get out of bed Forman, your mom wants you." He didn't even bother to open the door or wait for my answer before his footsteps retreated away and I let loose a sigh of relief that left me confused. This was getting ridiculous, why couldn't we just talk to each other like human beings? I didn't even do anything wrong, what the hell was he taking out on me? When I was away my mom had filled me in on a few things that had been going on with him, Jackie and Sam in particular, but none of that was in any way my fault. Yawning, I slowly got out of bed and slid into the pair of jeans I had left on the floor last night after Donna's, grimacing at the condom in the back pocket that I threw on the bed so I didn't have to look at it, before making my way out of the room. If I was lucky, Hyde would already have left for the store, and I could just eat my cereal in peace.

"Good morning Snicklefritz!" Still overly enthusiastic about having me back, mom rushed over to me to kiss both my cheeks once I entered the kitchen, which had only just become easier to avoid as the days I was back went on, even though her hugs were so tight it was still hard to breathe out a "morning, mom" in reply. I glanced over at the table to find Hyde thankfully gone and I felt immediately more at ease. Red was still reading the paper, glancing up at with me a look in his eye.

"Eric, now that you're back I think it's time you started pulling your weight in this house again." I tried to fight an eye roll as a poured a bowl of Cheerios. "I want you and Steven to clean out the garage."

I nearly choked on my first spoonful. "What, w-why?"

He lowered the paper and glared at me. "Because I said so. And if you don't like it, we can see instead how much you like my foot in your ass."

"No, I meant...why do I have to clean it with Hyde? Can't I clean it by myself?"

"Well Eric," he raised the paper again, "I'd like it done sometime this year, and Steven's been helpful around the house since you left, so I know he'll actually hold you accountable. And I want it done by the end of the night when Steven gets off work. Understood?"

"I'm nineteen, I can clean a garage by myself." I grumbled in between bites.

"Foot in ass, Eric." Was Red's only reply, not looking up at me.

I spent the rest of the day waiting for Hyde, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on the basement couch while pretending to watch TV, neck snapping up at any noise that sounded like the El Camino. On Saturdays I knew he didn't work until close, so at any minute I'd have to be face to face with him again. At long last, I heard the car park in our driveway, and mustering my strength, I made my way up the back steps. Hyde was reaching in the backseat for his jacket, either not seeing me or pretending not to, until I cautiously tapped on the window.

"Hey, uh," I swallowed nervously. "Red wants us to clean the garage…"

"I know." Was his bitter reply, still not looking at me, now full-on pretending to dig around his backseat for something, even though I could see there was nothing there and his jacket was in his other hand.

"So...do you want to start now, or wait for a bit…?"

After a deep sigh, Hyde got out of the car, slamming the door behind him, making me jump. "Whatever. Let's just get it over with."

The garage wasn't particularly messy, but a lot of scrap metal was surrounding my dad's work station, and old bottles and empty paint cans were scattered around in the corners. It really wasn't a two person job, I could have finished this by myself in about an hour, maybe less, I had no idea why Red wanted both of us to do this. We stood in silence for a moment before I went and grabbed a trash bag, sheepishly extending one to Hyde which he ripped out of my hands. I didn't know what to say, so the only sound coming out of the room was the rattling of metal and the clink of glass. It continued on until the last bag was tied in thrown in the can, Hyde immediately turning heel and heading for the basement.

"Wait." The word escaped my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. He turned to look at me, eyes dark behind the lenses of his glasses.

"What?" Barely a question as much as it was a statement.

"Look, man," I felt my palms get clammy. "I don't know what I did, but...I'm sorry. You've been acting super weird since I got back and I just, can't take it anymore."

"You can't take it anymore?" His volume didn't change, but I could hear the anger rising in his tone. I felt myself matching it.

"Yeah, ya dillhole. You're supposed to be my friend. I'm gone for a year and I finally come back, excited to see you guys again, and you're making it seem like I ruined your life. So I'm sorry, for whatever it is I did, but you're acting like a real dick."

"You better fucking watch it, _Forman_." He started walking closer to me until our faces were only about a foot away. "You keep talking to me like that and I'm gonna have to kick your damn ass."

"Oh yeah?"

" _Yeah._ "

"Oh yeah?!" Catching him by surprise, I reached out and shoved his shoulder, the force knocking the glasses off his face. Blue eyes reached mine in the split second I had to completely regret what I had just done, before he tackled me. The back of my head smacked the concrete floor of the garage with a start, white stars blooming in my eyes at the impact, before I started fighting back, arms and legs pushing back at him with all my strength.

"Fuck you," he snarled, "you fucking asshole."

"Get off me!" I shouted back, trying every way I could think of to hit him where it would hurt most, but he dodged everything I threw at him with ease. We went back and forth, with me occasionally getting the better of him, but eventually getting flipped on my back, no longer spitting insults at each other and instead focusing on the fight. Always the least athletic though, I ran out of breath.

"Alright, alright!" I gasped. "I give, okay? Jesus."

He stopped, but was still on top of me, chest heaving, hair a mess from my trying to yank at it, but said nothing. We stared at each other for a moment, I watched the flush on his cheeks die down to a rosy pink, our breaths evening out, but still we said nothing.

"Hyde…" I swallowed, his gaze intensifying. "What's going on with-"

"God dammit." He ripped away from me. "God dammit, god dammit, god dammit." Kneeling down to pick up his shades, he gave me one final venomous look. Before I could say anything, he retreated to the basement steps, leaving me alone on my back with nothing left but the buzzy hum of the overhead light and the quickening darkness of the winter evening.


	4. Chapter 4

I'd seen Mrs. Forman plan for a party before, but never like this. I don't think she'd had a drink of water or even sat down since six in the morning, running herself ragged to prepare the house before Forman got back, even though Red wasn't picking him up from the airport until late in the evening. Sipping a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, I watched eight trays of brownies, two massive punch bowls, and at least half a dozen cakes and pies being whirled around the room with the help of Jackie and Donna, Kitty barking orders at them and then immediately apologizing, only to yell at them again. I hadn't been sleeping well lately, my conversation with Red still weighing heavily on my mind, and didn't notice the baking tray that Donna lightly smacked me in the back of the head with.

"What the hell?!"

"You're either helping or you're getting the hell out. If I trip over your boots again, Kitty might actually kill me." She muttered, teeth clenched but still sounding amused. I just looked at her for a moment and didn't say anything as she moved onto sifting flour at the crowded kitchen counter. Her excitement for Eric to come back practically radiated out of her, showering the kitchen in light, where I instead felt hollowed out. Tonight was my last night in Point Place, something that until a few days ago had seemed like the best solution to my problem, and now seemed like a death sentence. I didn't want to go, but I had to. I said I would, so I had to. I had half a mug of coffee left but suddenly couldn't bring myself to finish it.

"Steven, honey, move it or lose it, we need the table!" Mrs. Forman plunked a heavy plate of ribs right in front of me with a withering glance before moving onto her next giant meal, and I snapped back to reality, leaving the kitchen and my mug behind to check and re-check my bag for the umpteenth time. At ten o'clock, I was hitting the road. This was it. I had gotten used to things ending in my life, hell, I considered most things to be temporary anyway, relationships, friendships, whatever. But something about this ending tore at me. I had been so ready to leave a week ago, barely even gave it a second thought, but now everything was making feel so damn sentimental. This was the first place that ever felt like home. Was this what Forman was like when he left? I heard everyone filtering into the basement, but couldn't bring myself to join them. I unzipped my duffel, looking at all of my earthly possessions: about ten t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, an extra pair of boots, and a few shitty eight tracks. I didn't have the heart to lug my vinyl collection with me, I was going to instead leave them behind for Fez with a note detailing all the pain I would put him through if he so much as scratched any of the Zeppelin. My earthly possessions totaled less than twenty things, something about that felt wholly depressing. The cot creaked beneath my weight as I laid down forlornly, only a few hours to go before seeing Eric again.

"Hyde?"

I slowly opened an eyelid. Jackie was in the doorway of my room, light from the hallway softly wafted in. Her arms were crossed, looking at me. I'd fallen asleep, duffel half unpacked around me, blanket twisted around my legs, boots still on, glasses haphazardly hanging from one of my ears. I coughed and scrubbed a hand over my face.

"What time is it?"

"Quarter past eight." She replied shortly, not moving. "Mr. Forman asked me to come get you. Eric's here."

The two of us, it hit me, had not been alone like this in a long time. I sat up, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes, avoiding her gaze. I had loved her so much, and I guessed a part of me would probably love her forever, but being alone in the same room we had spent so much time in, where I had last felt happiest, left an uncomfortable weight in the air. un

"I'll-uh-be up in a minute, I guess." I muttered, sliding my glasses onto my face to hide the fact that I didn't know how to look at her.

"Great." Her words were clipped as she turned away, but stopped short. "He's been gone a long time. Maybe try to be excited to see him."

I said nothing, but felt a flush creep up my face, one I hoped she couldn't see. Her eyes softened for a moment, before steeling again.

"See you up there." The heels of her shoes clicked up each step above me until she was gone, and I attempted to pull myself together. It would be like a band-aid, and then I'd be free. I could hear laughter from the living room, could imagine how bright and happy it was compared to the dank of the basement, and miserably, I stood up, ran a hand through my hair, and made my ascent. Each step was wet concrete, dragging my foot down, making me go slower, and slower, until I opened the basement door with a creak, to see Eric and Donna in the driveway, their arms wrapped around each other, and my blood ran cold. I watched him kiss her, hand cupping her jaw, the pure, simple smile I always saw on his face whenever they were together in the past, and I couldn't move. I didn't feel anger to see him, like I had expected to, but instead a churning almost-sadness. Something almost like...defeat. And I didn't know why.

"There you are, Steven." Red said, lower and calmer than I was used to. "Glad you decided to finally join the party."

Startled, I spun around. He was giving me a strange look, until his eyes darted to Eric and Donna and he sighed.

"So," he coughed nervously. "I take it our deal is still on."

"Yep." I lifelessly replied. My hands were clammy and I tried to subtly wipe the palms on my jeans, hoping Red wouldn't notice.

"Well son," he reached out a hand for mine, giving it a firm shake. "I wish you the best of luck out there. Hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thanks, Red," a small smile on my face.

"Just, uh," he glanced at Eric again before back at me, "Don't forget the other part of our deal. You've gotta say goodbye."

I glanced back outside. Eric and Donna were starting to head towards the sliding door, when our gazes met and I watched Eric's face light up. "Right," I replied solemnly, as Red grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked back towards the living room.

A year had felt like a long time. So much had happened to me, that just hadn't translated well through letters or over the phone, to the point that whenever Forman called home, I made some sort of excuse not to be there to talk to him. When Kitty got pictures in the mail of pictures with his students, I always took cursory glances but had no real memory of them. I felt like an entirely different person in the year he'd been gone, to the point where sometimes when I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. I expected the same for Eric, maybe like a ponytail, or some weird scars, something that would prove to me that he wasn't the same person he was when he left either. But it was like stepping into a time machine, somehow I'd gone back to that same day, over a year ago, and no one had changed but me.

"Oh my god, Hyde!" Eric burst through the door, rushing towards me, and I was cornered like a wild animal. He looked exactly the same, save for, shockingly, some light brown travel stubble in sparse pockets on his cheeks. The piercing hazel eyes, the shaggy haircut, even down to the chukka boots, he was the Forman he was before he left, but I wasn't the Hyde he knew anymore, and a panic welled in my throat. "Holy shit, it's so good to see you, I almost forgot what you looked like!"

I knew the comment was off-hand and didn't mean anything, but it felt too much like he read my mind. He went to wrap his arms around me and I stiffened but put my arms out in response.

"Good to see you," I said, robotically. When he pulled away, the hurt was written on his face and I was hit with a pang of regret. I hated him for leaving, but I didn't want to make him feel like shit on his first night back. I coughed and slapped him on the back, giving Donna a fake smile. "Bet you kids are happy, huh?"

She grinned in response, kissing Eric's cheek, and the sour feeling I'd had earlier kicked me in the gut, just as Bob called from the living room "Eric?! How the heck are ya?" and the two left me leaning on the formica, ears ringing and head buzzing. I could still stick to the plan. I could still leave, it was getting closer to ten, I could make my exit while everyone was asleep, it could be so easy.

Why then, all of a sudden, did I want to stay?


	5. Chapter 5

I had the dream again. Not that I meant to. Not that you can really control the dreams you have in the first place, I guess. I'd started having this particular dream a few days after the garage, Hyde not having spoken to me or even so much as looking at me since it happened. I woke up the way I always had, shivering in a cold sweat, choking out a gasp as I sat up. Every time, it was Andre: his smile, his laugh, so hauntingly clear in my mind that it startled me back to consciousness. The darkness in my room was illuminated only by my alarm clock, green numbers glowing "4:37," and I pressed my pillow to my face with a sigh. The worst of the jet lag had subsided a while ago, but I'd only had a few peaceful night's sleep before this started up. I'd been asked a lot about Africa, understandably, since I came back, and I was happy to talk about all of it: how great my students were, the food, the surprising climate. Andre was the one thing I refused to bring up. He stayed there, glued in the back of my mind, seemingly waiting for the right moment to strike, and apparently that moment was now. No one knew about him, he wasn't in any of the letters I mailed home, and the only photos I had stayed tucked away in my suitcase that I hadn't fully unpacked. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to look at them again, but couldn't bear the thought of getting rid of them. In the darkness, I could feel a heat emanating from those photographs, burning bright red hot, and I flipped over onto my side, begging my brain to think of anything else.

I'd been back a full two months now and it barely felt real. I fell into the orbit of everyone else's' lives that I had missed out on in the year I'd been gone, and I was grateful for it, for everyone's suspension of disbelief and willingness to assume that it was as if nothing had changed, and it was just us, hanging out like always. But in reality, I had changed while I was gone as much as they had, and there was much I was still unwilling to admit to them. I didn't really notice how different I had become until I was alone with Donna and she would want things I could never seem to give her lately. I pretended to not know why, but it'd become so painfully obvious. I loved her so much, she was still the most beautiful person I'd ever seen and she was all I thought about while I was gone. Until now. As the sky slowly gained more light and it become abundantly clear I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon, I slid on some jeans and grabbed the keys to the Cruiser from the dresser, desperate for some time away from here.

I had beat Red to the kitchen, which was somewhat surprising, and the house had a beautiful dim gray quality to it, as the sun slowly rose over the Pinciotti's house and light dappled through the screen door. Wisconsin in January was always bitterly cold, but the early morning is where it found its beauty, when the sunlight glittered off the snow and no one yet wanted to venture outside and risk ruining it all. My eyes were tired and pulled with a stinging pain whenever I blinked, and I briefly thought about returning to the comfort and safety of my bed, but ventured on. I had been avoiding driving the Vista Cruiser because it no longer felt like it belonged to me, but as the engine hummed back to life, I felt a piece of the past crawl back and smiled. Easing it out of the driveway, the creaks and moans of the old engine became louder than I remembered them being before, and the thought suddenly hit me: eventually I was going to move away, get a job, and my parents were going to sell the Cruiser. The bucket of bolts, that at the moment was running only on Red's mechanical handiwork and a prayer, could be out of my life soon. This could be one of my last times driving it. I gripped the steering wheel a little firmer, waiting for the heating vents to cut through the bitter cold, bracing myself at the thought. The minute this car was gone, so would be my connection to this place. So would all my memories with Donna, my friends. All of it was ending soon.

This early in the morning on a weekend no one was on the road in Point Place, so I did the usual lap I did in high school: circle the parking lot, round The Hub, pass the water tower, and then, the quarry. I didn't expect anything to look very different, but was still surprised at its' sameness. A pang of sadness hit me as a I eased to a stop at the stop sign near the edge of town, bordering on the interstate. I'd spent my whole life wanting to leave, and I eventually did, but leaving had come with a cost I didn't expect. It didn't feel like home anymore. It was the one place in this world I always expected to feel like I belonged and suddenly, I no longer did, and I was an imposter no one had seen through yet. My fingertips started to feel numb. I could I just keep driving. I could drive, and drive, until Point Place disappeared from my rearview window, nothing here belonged to me anymore. My foot gently accelerated as I turned the wheel to the right, easing into the curb lane, before a truck came barreling down the country road right at me, horn blaring, and I slammed on the brake. My palms left their impressions in sweat on the darkness of the steering wheel, vision wobbly. I could only sit there, drowning in adrenaline, waiting for my hands to stop shaking. I hadn't felt like this since I got on the plane back home, mind stuck on all the things stowed away in my suitcase that I couldn't imagine anyone else seeing, only capable of looking out the window at the clouds to keep from vomiting all over my seatmate. All I'd done was come back, but it felt like I'd committed some horrible crime.

I eased the car into the shoulder after a few moments of breathing, and the confirmation that no other trucks were about to crash into me, jamming it into park. Fuck. _Fuck_. I missed him. Head in hands, groaning in frustration, all I could think of was how much I missed Andre, how much I wished this feeling got left behind, tangled in the sheets of the bunk I spent a year sleeping in. I thought I could maybe just chalk it up to loneliness and homesickness, but no, I missed _him_. If I tried hard enough I could almost feel the phantom touch of his fingers on my wrist, which was how he would always interrupt me when I was writing letters or grading papers, I could almost smell the terrible cologne he kept insisting on buying from the markets even it was basically just musk and bug spray. His smile. His laugh. The way his hair felt against my hands when he leaned into me and I pressed secret kisses to his forehead. The way he reminded me of all the colors, all the sounds, all the music and dancing, singing and clapping of South Africa. I longed for all of it, but mostly, I longed for him. I should have stayed. Why didn't I stay? All I had here was an ex girlfriend I owed a lot of explanations to, oblivious parents, and a best friend who couldn't even look me in the eye.

I froze. Did Hyde know about Andre? Had he gone poking through my things when I was gone and found our letters, or worse, the pictures, and that's why he was acting like this? If he knows, would he tell the rest of the group? I felt my heart start racing again, blood pounding in my temples with panic. If it all came out, I could hide out in the FotoHut for a few days. I could try and save up enough money to go back to South Africa, try and contact Andre. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing, it could be my chance to start over, or at least a chance to go back to the last place I felt truly happy, the last place I felt like I had some sort of direction.

But wait. Hyde didn't freak out when he found out Buddy was into me. He thought it was hilarious that Buddy put some moves on me, sure, but he didn't seem upset, and definitely didn't shut me out like he was now. If it wasn't that though, what was it? When I called, he never wanted to talk to me, I thought he was just busy. If I'd known I'd done something, I would've tried harder. If he didn't want to be friends anymore, he could've just told me. I couldn't fathom a reality where we were no longer friends, it seemed stupid to throw it away after it'd been so long, but there just didn't seem to be an end in sight. We'd never gone this long without talking in twelve years. There didn't seem to be a point in fighting for it any longer if this was just how it was going to be, if he just kept refusing to talk to me, or even acknowledge me without being forced to. The curiosity of it all ate at me, but I felt too tired and too lost to keep trying.

Eventually, I needed to leave. Red and Kitty were almost definitely awake by now and calling me to breakfast, Hyde was probably sullenly eating some oatmeal and praying they didn't ask him to wake me up. They'd notice the car was gone, Kitty would probably have a panic attack, and it would all end with my ass being threatened by Red's foot. Rubbing at my tired eyes again, I put the Cruiser back into drive.


End file.
